


Stalemate, Maybe

by arrowinthesky (restfulsky5)



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depression, Flirting, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Past bad breakups, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Movie 3: Dark Knight Rises (2012), ambiguous - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restfulsky5/pseuds/arrowinthesky
Summary: They’re both recovering from tragedy. They’re both in denial that they still love each other.By a miracle, Tony makes the first move.





	Stalemate, Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know where this came from? This isn’t even my ship, but I was inspired and wrote most of this fic last night. Bear with me if Tony reads a little OOC. I tried my best. I’ve read many stories that included his character, and I’m a huge fan of the Avengers, but this is the first time I’ve actually written him in a fic.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is a mashup of timelines and verses. Basically, Civil War and The Dark Knight Rises occur pretty much at the same time. Setting is still NY. Oh, and Tony and Bruce haven’t discussed much of their real selves with each other at all, poor bbs. Luthor has a very minor part in all this.
> 
>  
> 
> So, as you can see, this story falls off the canon wagon numerous times. You may have to suspend belief a bit, too, especially in regards to the fact that Tony and Bruce don’t chat about the Bat. Just appreciate the ambiguity in this, I guess? And read at your own risk if you like things to be straightforward. I do hope you enjoy it. Please pardon any errors you see...no beta for this one. :)

 

Tony casually sipped his beer, content to observe his frenemies and listen to their mindless chatter as they pretended to actually care about what the other was saying. He didn’t know what had possessed him to ask both Luther and Wayne to celebrate his birthday like this—both were buffoons when they wanted to be—when what he’d really wanted was to go on another date with Pepper for old time’s sake. A date that he probably wouldn’t manage to secure any other day, either. That ship had sailed. It was long gone, much like his friends were.

 

_Friends._

 

The very idea nearly made him choke.

 

He swallowed, wishing he was drinking something stronger, to hide how bitter everything seemed to him. He missed the days when the team had been together. Everyone was scattered now, or hiding, and he missed his housemate, the ever-steady Green Monster—okay, so that was a killer oxymoron—the most.

 

But he also missed Nat. Thor. Maybe even Clint, if he lied to himself a little.

 

He paused and stared dumbly at Luthor, who was bald. He would never understand that one. Lex could certainly afford a hairstylist, not to mention that his current look aged him at least a decade.

 

Tony stared at Bruce next, the bastard who had glided back into his life in what appeared to be a thousand dollar wheelchair, a chair that was better looking than what Rhodey had used before he learned to walk again. Bruce had chalked it up, alright, this injury of his. With his left leg in a full, black cast and sticking straight out, he’d demanded being waited on for fear that he’d bump into something.

 

‘Diving accident,’ Bruce had claimed. Tony had cracked some joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it had been in poor taste.

 

Bruce’s face hadn’t filled with color since Tony had fucking drained it with the accusation that Alfred must not be watching over him like he used to and had finally abandoned the lost cause that he was.

 

He’d gotten the feeling that he’d put his foot in his mouth somehow when Bruce’s eyes had filled with real, honest to goodness tears. He’d never seen Wayne cry before. Rage, yes. Cry, no. It had been an awful moment to see the usually pompous man break, especially when Luther had actually snickered, amused at the sight. It had worsened when Bruce’s hands had merely tightened along the tops of the wheels of his chair, the billionaire playboy not even bothering to hide his face as he tried to compose himself.

 

That had been an hour ago. He was more than a little surprised that they hadn’t tried to kill each other since then. Not that he wasn’t grateful that the three of them were all still alive. He couldn’t imagine putting Pepper through something like that. _Again_.

 

Shaking his head at himself, he realized that he must be drunk already, seeing that he actually felt some remorse over the jab. He had never seen Bruce look so low, or so thin and worn, or so quiet, for that matter. The old Tony, who had been coming out more than usual, much to Pepper’s dismay, would have felt a morbid satisfaction that he’d hurt Bruce. The new Tony just didn’t care anymore. About anything.

 

Or so he told himself as he stared out his window each morning, imagining the way things used to be. Golden and alive, with no room for the depression that had snuck up on him.

 

Holding his bottle mid-air, the liquid swirling as he moved his wrist back and forth, he decided he’d made a mistake inviting Luthor and Wayne back into the empty shell called his life. Hell, even _Steven_ would be better than this, wouldn’t it?

 

The pathetic part of his heart that still loved Wayne agreed.

 

Unfortunately, that was the same part of his heart that couldn’t—or wouldn’t—shut up. “So why did you really break up with me at Princeton, you asshole?” Tony blurted.

 

Wayne’s neck snapped around, the likes of which he’d never seen on him before, the younger man’s eyes sharpening for the first time that evening. “Dammit, Stark,” Bruce exclaimed with an uncharacteristic hiss.

 

Tony’s eyes widened mockingly, more so when Luthor crossed his arms with a knowing smile, like he was going to enjoy this sideshow.

 

Tony tossed his bottle. It shattered as it hit one of his windows. “Huh. I guess this means that I’m back in anger management therapy after tonight.”

 

“Tony,” Wayne strangled out.

 

Yeah, too drunk. “It’s just a question.”

 

“I already told you,” Bruce stated with a lift to his jaw, but the words were quiet and distorted through his clenched teeth.

 

The last decade and a half weighed heavily between them. It always did, separating them by more than just miles. Both of them were stubborn, aloof in their own way. And though it was possible that the weight could be easily described as mutual attraction, too, Bruce had never given him another indication that he was interested in Tony.

 

“You were young and stupid, Wayne,” Tony accused. “Stupider than I was, even.” He waited, watched as Bruce couldn’t help himself and clutched the wheels of his chair in that new habit of his, until he was white-knuckled and shaking.

 

But Bruce blew out a slow breath with more control than he expected, his voice steadying. “Your point being?”

 

He stood at the unspoken challenge. “Bruce, I never believed you’d actually told me the truth.” He flipped his head back and chugged the last of his drink, staring down at the empty bottle to mutter, “Just like everyone else seems to be doing these days.”

 

“What happened to you?” Bruce asked, his simple question barreling through his defenses.

 

He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let that happen. “More than a broken leg,” he can’t help but laugh.

 

“That’s enough, Tony,” a soft voice behind him broke through.

 

He didn’t bother to look back. He saw enough pity as it was in Bruce’s eyes. He didn’t need more of that, plus accusations. “Rhodey, now's not a good time.”

 

“It’s never a good time, though, is it?” Rhodey countered.

 

Tony ignored him and the sigh that followed, stared hard at his ex, instead. “So? I’m pretty sure that I deserve the truth after spending all these years in the dark.”

 

“I told you that I’d had to leave,” Bruce insisted.

 

He shook his head, recalling the odd mixture of guilt and determination he’d seen in Bruce’s eyes that day. “I don’t buy it.”

 

“Why is this bothering you now?” Bruce asked.

 

Tony had to look twice when Bruce’s expression filled with genuine confusion.

 

But that couldn’t be right. He’d been sure the playboy had known the non-answer had always bothered him. He’d even sent him a letter—two of them—asking the same question. He’d cared too much to just let it go. Obviously, that care had never been reciprocated. Yet Bruce had taken the time out of his own disastrous affairs and made the effort to come to Tony’s place, all with a broken leg, like he _did_ care.

 

Which didn’t make any sense at all.

 

“Let’s just say that I came to a few...conclusions recently,“ Tony said. “I want to know if you’re someone I can trust, ‘cuz if you’re not, this is the last party I’m ever inviting you to.”

 

Bruce blinked. “It’s not even your birthday, Tony.”

 

Luthor looked around at the balloons floating beside him, the presents scattered along the counter, the birthday cake Pepper had made for him - and the obnoxiously bright, red and gold confetti on the floor. He snorted. “Seriously, Stark?”

 

Tony shrugged. “So you paid attention to that, at least, Bruce,” he said blandly. “Guess we’re even now.”

 

Suddenly, Bruce’s watch made itself known, the music trolling from it oddly familiar. The eerie melody sent shivers down his spine, and he stiffened, glaring at Bruce to cover up his reaction.

 

“Are you telepathic? Do you have a connection with your secretary? Or Alfred?” Tony asked. “Because I swear, Wayne, this is what happens every time I try to get the truth out of you.”

 

“It’s possible,” Bruce deadpanned, tearing his eyes away from his watch to gaze up at Tony, a flat look on his face that didn’t belong. “I’ve always known there was something batty about my father’s side of the family.”

 

“I’ll be among the first to visit you in Arkham, then,” he sneered.

 

For a moment, the same moment that a flicker of hurt flashed across Bruce’s face, a second apology was on Tony’s lips. But it vanished when the pain of Steve’s betrayal connected with the memory of how sweet Bruce’s mouth had been under his. When he knew the empty seats around him would never be filled, and he’d never again taste the man he wanted with every fiber of his being.

 

The breakup at Princeton hadn’t been their only torrent affair. They’d been together one other time before, not too long after Bruce had returned to Gotham after his long absence galavanting who knows where, without responsibility, the Avengers, and deaths on his shoulders like Tony had.

 

“You two need to fuck already and get it over with,” Luthor said, chuckling.

 

Silence hit the room a second time. But no one missed the way Wayne guided his chair backwards, failing miserably in his attempt to move himself because his hands were shaking too damn much.

 

“Yep,” Lex drawled. “I called it.”

 

Tony wished he had another bottle, just to dump out its contents, then shatter, on Lex’s head. “Stay, and maybe you’ll even get to watch the show.”

 

“Jesus, Stark,” Rhodes breathed out.

 

“Stop it, Tony,” Bruce said defeatedly, his shoulders slumping as he finally caught his wheels in a steady grip and backed away. “Lex didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

“You are delusional if you believe that,” Tony quipped.

 

He followed behind the younger man, wanting to stop Luthor’s smirk from reaching Wayne’s back, which seemed to be an easy target. Thanks to Tony, of course, who’d given the first blow.

 

Still, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “It’s your bedtime already?”

 

“That was my lawyer. He needs to meet with me downtown,” Bruce said, mouth tight. “I can see myself out,” he added in a low voice. “No need to babysit me. It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

 

“How long will you be wearing that cast?” he asked, suddenly curious.

 

Bruce shrugged, as if he’d been expecting the question. “Until it’s healed.”

 

“Six weeks? Eight?” He frowned. Something he’d said didn’t sit well with him. “Don’t tell me that Alfred is on vacation, letting you deal with this on your own in that overgrown mansion of yours? Gotham’s still limping along since that Bane guy, isn’t it? Or have you been too bankrupt to notice?”

 

“Tony,” Bruce said abruptly, eyes fixated on the nothingness on his lap. “For what it’s worth, I hope that they come back. All of them. You worked well together once.” He paused, chewed on his bottom lip, then added softly, “Something I could never do. Teamwork.”

 

He wasn’t speechless, but it took him a few seconds to form a coherent response. He hadn’t told Bruce a single thing about what happened, though the Average Joe could’ve learned a thing or two just from watching the news. “The team and I did work well together.” He paused. “Once.”

 

Bruce still didn’t look at him, but he smiled. “Once may be all that it takes.”

 

Tony cleared his throat. He wasn’t stupid. Bruce had just extended an undeserved olive branch. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe we can talk business again, soon?”

 

In hindsight, the way Bruce slowly pulled his eyes up to meet his should’ve clued him in that something wasn’t quite right. The sadness etched in the younger man’s drawn features wasn’t right, either, but it wouldn’t be until a week later, after a berating from Pepper, and when he finally got up his nerve to call Wayne Enterprises when he couldn’t reach Bruce on his cell, that he would even begin to understand his horrendous error. He’d been caught up in his own hurt, unable to acknowledge that underneath Bruce’s shadowed eyes and silence was pain and loss, experienced to an unimaginable degree. And underneath the illusion of the cast and the chair was a new challenge altogether that would never go away.

 

“Yeah,” Bruce said, sending him a lopsided but plastic grin, harkening back to their youth. Same old Bruce. “We’ll talk business. God knows I need fresh ideas and advice since I lost it all. I’m just an overrated playboy on his last leg, after all.”

 

“But it was fraud,” he hedged. “Wasn’t it?”

 

Bruce searched his face. “What do you think?”

 

“You’ve left me in the dark with far more than the reason behind a breakup,” he murmured, one eye on Lex, who was on his cell at the far end of the room.

 

“I’m not the Batman, Tony,” Bruce whispered, the intensity in his expression too strong to be that of a common, wastrel billionaire’s. “I don’t know how else to prove to you that I’m not.”

 

“So you’ve told me.” Tony wasn’t thrilled with the way Bruce had handled any part of their relationship, friendship or otherwise, including the vague feeling he had that Bruce had turned ninja on him, but he had to give him credit for not folding when things got tough. “Stay? Maybe we can help each other.”

 

Bruce’s shoulders dropped. “I’m not sure I can stand another verbal beating.”

 

Tony winced. He was certain that the _real_ Bruce, who Wayne rarely let slip out from under his mask, wasn’t one to admit defeat or weakness. “I’ll wear my suit and you can have a turn that way. As long as you use tomatoes. They’re the same color.”

 

Bruce snorted. “No, no need to go to extremes. Let’s call it even, and go from there?”

 

“Tomorrow morning? My pancakes aren’t too lumpy, I promise.”

 

Smiling faintly, Bruce wheeled himself into the elevator. “You have whipped cream and syrup?” he said over his shoulder.

 

Tony whistled. “You’re skipping to the good part already? I’ll have to remember to clean my room before you come over to play.”

 

Bruce flushed. “That’s not what-“

 

“If eating pancakes with gobs of whipped cream is what it’ll take to satisfy your insatiable sweet tooth and take your mind off of Alfred and his visit to Italy,” he interrupted smoothly. “Sure.”

 

Bruce sucked in a breath. “How did you know?”

 

Tony shrugged. “You’re not the only one with resources.” He quirked a brow. “And now that I know you _are_ alone -“

 

“I’m not alone,” Bruce countered. “My assistant came with me.”

 

“The beautiful, black-haired woman who rode with you and is waiting for you downstairs?” He narrowed his eyes. “Assistant, or is this going to end up riding out like that one party, where your date played my piano with her toes?”

 

“Irena is just a friend, Tony, nothing more. As far as I know, she has no musical talent whatsoever.”

 

“Too bad. My piano’s collecting dust. Irena, huh?” he mused aloud. It sounded like a fake name, in his humble opinion.

 

Bruce huffed. “She’s a friend, Tony, helping me out while I’m here on business.”

 

“Right.” They stared at each other, and Tony could see Bruce was trying to read him the same way he was trying to read _him_.

 

Bruce was the first to break eye contact, his gaze dropping down to his lap like before. Tony shifted on his feet, the moment growing even more uncomfortable when the light simply faded from Bruce’s eyes at the same time.

 

He’d never been good at this stuff, probably because he could hardly face his own hellish problems. He swallowed, tamping down the sympathy he was feeling the best he could.

 

“Noon?” Bruce asked, his mouth twisting into a smile.

 

“Still not a morning person?” he asked softly, wanting to draw out the moment as long as possible. He did not want to be left alone with Luthor. Hell, no.

 

But, of course, Wayne had other ideas.

 

“No, I’m not.” Bruce smiled. “Bats are nocturnal.”

 

And the elevator doors slid shut.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all I have for this story for now, unless I get inspired to write more. If there’s anyone out there who wants to write the next part, feel free to do so. Just let me know/link to this one. I have several WIPs on my plate right now, including a Bruce Wayne/Jim Gordon fic, and one with Bruce/Selina, that are going to take precedent over a second part of this particular story. As much as I WANT to write the second part, I’m not sure I can get it done in a timely manner. I will say, I am dishing out the hurt on poor Bruce, but that’s not to say that if he ever confesses to Tony what’s really wrong with him that Tony can’t help him like Rhodey. I guess...all of that is up to you, the reader. :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the story! Thanks so much for stopping by! :)


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